The Healing
by Sheila Waters
Summary: Bowen and Kara were both wounded by Einon; this is the story of those days of mutual healing...


**THE HEALING**

They stood watching the riverbank; all three stunned for three very different reasons. Bowen felt gutted; Draco was angry, but Kara still harboured fear. For her, events of the past twenty-four hours couldn`t have been more dramatic. A splashing in the water beside her brought her mind back to reality; Draco edged closer to the knight.   
"Look to your wound, Bowen," the dragon said softly.   
Dismissing the arm bleeding from Einon`s sword thrust, Bowen answered testily: "It`s just a poke in the shoulder; I`ll live."   
"Huh!" scoffed the dragon. "There`s a deeper wound, I fear," and his great, horned head came in as close to Bowen`s face as it was able. The knight staggered backwards, straight into Kara who pushed him away.   
"Have a care, Sir Knight," she warned him.   
"I`m sorry," as he turned bleary, blue eyes on the girl he`d dubbed a nuisance. His hand went up to the shoulder again and blood oozed between his fingers. For the second time, Bowen shook it off.   
"You should get that dressed, Bowen," Draco advised. "Kara, you clean it, I`ll fetch some herbs," and with a great updraught, the mighty dragon took to the skies.   
"Er..." began the girl. In a disgruntled tone she verbally attacked Bowen. "Just what is going on here? You offer me as bait and - "   
" - now just a minute!" Bowen defended. "I didn`t offer you as bait; your village did that!"   
"And," she persisted, "I discover you are very friendly with this dragon. How?"   
"It`s a long story," he gasped, sloshing his way to the bank where he sat down heavily on a rock.   
Following to the safety of dry land, Kara stared down at the knight who was so obviously in pain. Summoning up more courage than he would ever be aware of, she said: "Let me look then."   
Watery eyes looked up at her. "Have you dressed a sword thrust before?" knowing full well she hadn`t.   
"No; but it can`t be much different to a slash from a scythe."   
A wan smile showed up laughter lines around his eyes. "I suppose not," and he tried to unbuckle his sword belt.   
"What are you doing?" she said, taking a hurried pace backwards.   
He swayed, swore then apologised. "I can`t do it, you`ll have to help me," as his clumsy fingers dropped into his lap.   
"What?"   
Fighting to remain conscious, Bowen frowned. "Remove my belts so that I can get out of these clothes."   
"W-why?" she stammered in a mixture of embarrassment and fear.   
"So you can... " and his words trailed away. "Don`t you have any brothers? A lover?" he grinned.   
"No!" she snapped.   
"It`s just a tunic and shirt, girl; and anyway, I pose no threat to your virtue." It was a jest but it missed its mark. He didn`t realise by how much.   
The jest was wasted on Kara but something in his manner begged trust. "Very well; but any wrong move on your part and I`ll give you a matching pair. I know how to use this," and she brandished her dagger at him.   
"I`ll not argue with you; now please, before I fall at your feet - and not out of any romantic intent."   
Her own hands shook as she bent to unfasten the sword belt. It slid to the earth. Then Kara knelt to unthread the wider belt holding Bowen`s tunic in place; her fingers sliding over a finely wrought silver ornament at his waist.   
"This is beautiful," she commented in awe.   
Bowen looked down. "It`s old; a gift from Queen Aislinn," he explained. "Something I am proud of." His voice fractured; whether from pain or emotion even he wasn`t sure.   
Respectfully, Kara wound the belt around her hand and laid it to one side. Now she had to literally undress this man. The hem of his tunic fell almost to his knees so he was sitting on a good portion of it. "Um; can you raise yourself a moment?" she said shyly.   
"I`ll try!" He was jesting again, using humour laced with innuendo to try and lighten her mood. If he only knew the irony in his words...   
Bracing his hands on the rocks, Bowen raised his buttocks from the stone. Kara pulled up the back of the tunic just in time; he slumped back down again. Standing in front of him, she reached down to grasp the garment; her hair brushed against his face and his knees parted as she leaned forward.   
"You need to raise your arms," she instructed.   
"All this talk of rising could give a man ideas!" he quipped, trying to comply.   
Ignoring the crude comment, Kara pulled ruthlessly at the tunic and succeeded in divesting Bowen of it. Then she was faced with a shirt bound into place by a girdle or cummerbund. Her eyes widened at sight of this new barrier.   
"It`s for protection," he explained. "It`s laced at my right side."   
Again she leaned over him; again her hair fell towards his face; this time his fingers found impetus enough to take hold of it, startling her. She scowled at him.   
"It`s tickling me," Bowen said with a smile.   
"I`ll tickle you with this if you don`t behave!" touching the handle of her dagger.   
"Peace, girl; I mean you no harm." He tried to unlace the girdle for her and about managed it; it fell away from him and he tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his breeches. "Last round," he murmured.   
A little roughly, Kara stripped off the shirt only to be greeted by more blood than she`d seen in a long time. It sobered her sufficiently to rush around looking for moss with which to clean the wound enough to assess the extent of its damage. Finding several clumps of the vegetation, Kara soaked them and began the serious task of washing away blood.   
She sat beside Bowen, aware of, but ignoring the way he continued to stare at her. Did he remember? She doubted it. To him, she was just a peasant; faceless; formless; unless something was required of her...   
He helped her to wash the wound which was at least a clean cut; he applied the pressure to stem the blood flow since she seemed afraid to. The rush of air above them told Bowen that Draco had returned.   
Rather smugly, the dragon deposited a mixture of freshly pulled herbs into Kara`s lap. "You do know what to do with them?" he boomed at her.   
"Of course."   
"She`s dealt with scythe cuts," Bowen put in. "They`re the same as sword thrusts - aren`t they, girl?" he said sarcastically.   
Draco eyed the two humans. He guessed something was sadly amiss yet couldn`t put a talon on it. He lowered his vast body down to the ground to enable him a better view of their faces. His keen eyes saw the dagger in Kara`s belt. Then he remembered. From his vantage point behind the falls he`d clearly seen her reaction to Einon`s appearance and recalled that inexplicable pain in his own shoulder. Now he knew the awful truth. Gently, he tried to put Kara at ease with Bowen.   
"Has he been a bad patient?" he asked.   
"He has a glib tongue; given to crude remarks," she imparted, tearing at the leaves.   
"Oh really? Bowen, you must not be so ungracious."   
"Me?!" the knight spluttered. "Anyone would have thought I`d tried to -"   
" - Bowen!" the dragon commanded. "Remember from whom she fled," and huge eyebrows raised above serpentine-yellow eyes.   
Chastised, Bowen closed his mouth. It couldn`t be; she was too... too... What? Angry? Bitter? Defensive? There were no tears; no howls of derision; but there was fear that much he`d recognised. If Einon had raped her it explained her whole attitude once confronted with the need to undress him. Ye gods! Why hadn`t she said something?   
"Kara, I owe you an apology," he said meekly. "As a Knight of the Old Code my manners were unbecoming."   
She turned from her task of pounding leaves into a paste and glared at him; then she looked up at Draco who gave her a little twitch of his horns and a smile she never thought possible from such a creature.   
"He`s a piece of dough in your hands now, Kara; mould him well," and he turned gracefully on four huge legs to disappear into a cave behind the falls. "Tend each other`s wounds," he called back; the words echoing beyond the rushing waters.   
Both were embarrassed. Kara thumped viciously at the mess of herbs, forming them into a poultice which she wrapped in a large leaf then took it to the small campfire to warm it up. Sliding off the rock, Bowen followed and crouched down beside her. Still holding a piece of moss to the gash above his right breast, Bowen spoke carefully to Kara.   
"You should have told me; especially when my words became those of a drunken man."   
Her head turned slowly. Brown-gold eyes suddenly found compassion in the deep blue depths that were Bowen`s eyes. "Why?" she asked softly.   
"So I would tread more carefully around you."   
"I didn`t know I would end up in your company. You were a dragonslayer - remember? A - "   
" - broken down, blackmailing knight - yes, I remember the insult." He attempted a smile but fancied he saw a tear in her eyes. Putting out one finger he would have brushed it away but she dodged his touch. Then he realised just how volatile a situation it was. He hissed between his teeth. "Einon cut you deeper," he croaked.   
"He can thrust as well armed with a sword as not!" she snarled, delighting in the blush her words brought to Bowen`s cheeks.   
"I should have guessed." His hand fell from the wound. "Is that ready?" inclining his head to the near-boiled poultice. "I don`t want to add a burning to this."   
It was too hot. She burned her fingers pulling it out of the fire. Bowen laughed; Kara didn`t.   
"I ought to slap it on you as it is!" she railed at him.   
"Don`t vent your anger on me, girl!" he hurled back. "Scream; stamp your feet; weep if you will but don`t blame me!"   
"Weren`t you his teacher? He said as much."   
"Not in the ways of love."   
"Love?!" she screamed. "Lust. He raped me! Do you have any idea what that means to me?!"   
"No. No, I don`t. How can I? I`m a man. But I see its result; I`ve seen it before."   
Suddenly her anger evaporated. The poultice cooled in her hands and she was reminded of the task set her. "This... this is cool enough now," and she laid it against the raw flesh.   
Bowen winced as the heat drove into him; his hand grasped at the mess of leaves and clasped over Kara`s fingers at the same time. He felt her flinch. "Gently," he soothed her.   
"Now you understand why we must fight Einon," she said equally soothingly.   
"He`s too powerful," Bowen declared.   
"Then so must we be."   
Shaking his head, Bowen was bemused by her simplistic assessment. "I tried to tell you in your village today; you`ll only get yourself hung."   
"It can`t be any worse than what I`ve already suffered."   
He winced again from the reminder. "Life is always better than death."   
"Is it?" She rose and walked back to the rocks. Picking up Bowen`s clothes, she inspected them. "Do you have anything I can mend these with?" she called to him.   
"In my saddlebag." He stood shakily and slouched his way towards her. "You would do that for me?" he asked in surprise.   
"I`m only offering to stitch up these rents." She eyed him purposefully. "Come night you`ll be glad of them for warmth. Will you fetch the needle and thread or shall I poke about amongst your personal possessions?"   
"You won`t find much in there, girl."   
"My name is Kara," she said icily.   
"And I am Bowen. He," flinging his good arm towards the cave, "is Draco."   
"Yes, I know."   
With a grunt, Bowen forced himself over to his horse and brought back a bone needle and a reel of thread. He thrust them into Kara`s hands and slumped back down beside where she sat.   
"Are you in great pain?" she asked casually.   
"Your tongue is as sharp as any pain," he complained. "This," touching his breast, "is easing now - thank you," he added as sincerely as he could, then watched in awe as she made short work of mending where Einon`s sword had ripped through leather, wool and linen. She handed back the needle and thread and he held out his hand for the shirt, but she got up without giving it to him.   
"Where are you going with that?" he questioned.   
"To wash out the blood. They`ll dry in this heat."   
Amazed, he followed after her like some trained hound. "You don`t need to," laying a hand on her sleeve.   
Looking at him, she said: "They`ll rot if I don`t. Do you have anything else to wear?"   
"No."   
"Then leave me be." She tucked her skirts between her knees and crouched by the waterside.   
Bowen glimpsed neat ankles criss-crossed with the straps of her shoes. In a hoarse whisper, he said: "You can`t wash away the memory so easily."   
"No, but I can pretend." Her head dropped; her curtain of flame tresses hid her face; he must not see her tears.   
He wanted desperately to comfort her but feared her dagger in his ribs if he dared to touch her; not because she was afraid of him, but of the memory the touch of any man might dredge up. Bowen hated Einon more for that than what the ingrate had done to him. Sadly, Bowen left Kara to her self-imposed exorcism and returned to the campfire. Well, he could feed her and offer her friendship. 

********** 

The night turned cool but Bowen was warm. As Kara had promised, his clothes had dried in the afternoon sun and they were now back on his body; as was his cloak. He was warm but couldn`t sleep. However, Kara did sleep; several feet away on the opposite side of the fire. Bowen assumed that weariness had induced her slumber; whereas anger marred his. Rolling onto his left side, he studied her face; she was quite pretty. He smiled; she`d been covered in filth when he first clapped eyes on her and the thought occurred that any man would find her attractive. True; but there was a difference between admiration and action; seduction and ravishment.   
Sighing, Bowen struggled to his feet; perhaps if he walked a while he would weary his own body to sleep. Passing Kara`s tightly curled form, she suddenly began to moan and thrash her arms. Wondering whether to wake her and risk her dagger at his throat, he looked for it. Seeing it under her arm, he dared risk removing it before gently nudging her to wake; at least a smack in the mouth was preferable to cold iron anywhere else.   
"Kara," he called, stooping beside her. "It`s Bowen; wake up, you`re safe."   
With a great shudder her eyes flew open; her hand went for her dagger only to see its hilt under her nose.   
"You don`t need this here," he assured her. "No one will harm you."   
Still she scrambled to sit up. "W-what... d-do you... w-want?"   
"Just to waken you from a bad dream." He smiled; then he forced the dagger back into her hand. "Here; take it if you think I lie."   
Take it she did, but it was no threatening grip she put onto its hilt. Grasping her knees - the dagger held limply in her right hand - Kara`s head smacked down onto them.   
Bowen knelt and, against his better judgement, put his left arm around her, pulling her against his chest. "Ssh; no one will hurt you again, I swear it." But she hurt him. A resounding slap stung his right cheek. Recoiling, Bowen pursed his lips. "What was that for?!" putting his left hand around to the smarting cheek, since his right arm had stiffened as a result of the injury.   
"You... you... stay away," and she began to wave the dagger in an uncertain gesture.   
"I was only trying to comfort you. Was no man ever kind to you?" he ventured.   
"Only my father."   
"Don't let one man's actions cloud your judgement of us all. Very few of us are ravishers; and I am not among them," he said gravely.   
"Then don't touch me."   
"How else are you to learn how to trust again? When I was a child, I fell from my horse. My father picked me up and - despite my howls of protest - put me back in the saddle."   
"It's hardly the same thing."   
"Friends touch each other; it doesn't always signify a romantic interest." He put it as delicately as he could.   
Kara studied the face before her. A red mark now showed up on his right cheek; night-darkened eyes peered at her; his hair had bleached in the moonlight and hung in tangles around his face and shoulders; but the hint of a smile pervaded the gloom to prick her conscience.   
"I hurt you," was all she could offer as an apology, raising the dagger's point to his cheek.   
"A little," he said softly, easing down onto his left hip.   
"It's been an eventful day," Kara understated. "I'm snatched by a dragon; in fear for my life and then he sings to me!"   
Bowen couldn't help but smile at her outrage. "He doesn't sing very often; he must like you."   
"And that's another thing. You are a cheat!" she accused. "You would have taken money from my village all for a lie! How long have you been robbing the poor?!"   
"Not the poor. I had no choice in your village; Brok was my target not your people. Why do you think I suggested a sacrifice - hm?"   
"But you didn't stop to consider the consequences of that, did you?"   
Back came Draco's words: 'squeeze the nobility and it's the peasants who feel the pinch.' Bowen grimaced. "It all worked out well," he defended. "No one was hurt." No; and he'd lost a profit because of her. "Better dragon bait than... " He bit his tongue. It couldn't get any worse for her; only if he reminded her.   
There was to be no treaty between them on this night. Bowen scrambled awkwardly to his feet and cautiously flexed his shoulder. "I'll let you rest; we'll discuss this in the morning," and he turned on his heel.   
"Discuss what?"   
Only his head turned to reply. "What we're to do with you." 

********** 

The aroma of meat roasting crept into Bowen's nostrils; he rolled over and a sharp pain served to remind him of the previous day's events. Muttering under his breath, he tossed aside the cloak he'd used as a blanket and staggered to his feet.   
"Good morning," the deep voice greeted.   
"Is it?" answered Bowen tersely, ambling away from the campsite.   
"Where are you going, Bowen?" Draco wanted to know. "I have breakfast all ready."   
"To relieve myself!" snapped the knight, quickening his pace.   
"Oh dear," Draco muttered to himself, "it's going to be one of those days... " Looking over to where Kara still slept, the dragon decided against attempting to wake her, she'd like as not hurl her dagger at his snout. Best let her remember in her own time that dragons were friendly.   
Striding to the riverbank, Bowen gently rotated his right shoulder and flexed his fingers. He bent to pull his sword from its scabbard, twirling it slowly in a few practice moves.   
"How is the shoulder?" Draco asked softly.   
Peering around and up at the giant lizard, Bowen answered in one word: "Sore."   
"Any permanent damage?"   
"I wouldn't think so." He put down the sword.   
"No - it wasn't anywhere near your heart," and his eyebrows arched up towards his crown of horns in a gesture of double meaning.   
"Don't get clever!" warned Bowen.   
"He didn't take the edge off your tongue, did he?"   
"My tongue?!" retorted Bowen. "She's the one with the sharp tongue!" shaking his good arm in Kara's direction.   
"Pretty though," admired the dragon.   
Bowen scowled. "So is a bee; but it carries a sting in its tail."   
"So do I!" and Draco demonstrated the lethal, jawlike scales on the end of his own tail.   
"So I remember," Bowen replied with a wry smile.   
"So you two have fought," Kara's voice interrupted.   
Both knight and dragon whipped around their heads. Bowen's movement sent a jolt of pain coursing through his shoulder and he clutched it, swearing audibly.   
"Your language hasn't improved - Sir Knight," she added acidly.   
"See what I mean?" Bowen said indignantly to Draco.   
"Now, children," the dragon patronised, "play nicely lest I be forced to knock your heads together," and his own came down between them in warning.   
"Oh stop it!" Bowen demanded, holding his shoulder. All his attempts at exercise had set the whole thing throbbing again.   
"Is this all you can do?" Kara questioned angrily; hands planted firmly on equally firm, yet slender hips. "Einon rides roughshod over everyone within striking distance and you two banter blithely about nothing in particular!"   
Bowen cast a knowing glare at Draco then addressed the girl. "Instead of complaining, you ought to be grateful that we rescued you in the first place."   
"Huh!" she grunted. "Grateful?! Grateful that you kept your hands off me?!" glaring hotly at Bowen. "Or grateful that you didn't just hand me back to Einon?!"   
Having heard enough, Bowen advanced menacingly up to Kara. "Have you done?" he said in a low growl. "Just let me know where you'd like to go and I will gladly escort you there." He turned around then swivelled back to add: "Safely!" Plonking himself down onto a rock, he gently probed beneath his clothing and eased up an edge of the poultice. He whistled between his teeth then looked up at his two disparately proportioned companions. Both stood eyeing him with amusement.   
"It ought to be changed," Kara advised.   
Bowen clenched his teeth. "I'm not sure I trust you," he responded.   
"I promise I'll be careful."   
"Mm; but will you hurt me again?" his eyes widening as he effectively turned the tables on her.   
Kara noticed then how deep a blue his eyes were and a tremor went through her stomach as they drew her in. "No, I won't."   
"Mind if I eat first? I'd rather surrender to you on a full stomach." He held her eyes until she broke the stare.   
"As you wish," she said dismissively, "it will give me time to prepare a fresh dressing." She went over to Bowen's saddlebag where she'd put the remainder of the herbs, and withdrew a handful.   
"Don't let it get too hot this time," Bowen said over her shoulder, startling her sufficiently so that she dropped some of the leaves. They bent together to pick them up. "Butter fingers," he said, letting his own touch hers.   
Her head whipped around and smacked him on the jaw. "I... I'm sorry."   
"Maybe I should just hand my sword to you. Since you seem intent on murdering me by degrees, it would be more humane to put me out of my misery now!"   
Kara wasn't sure whether Bowen was being serious or sarcastic so opted for supplication. "What would that achieve? You could be useful in a rebellion."   
"Rebellion?!" Bowen was on his feet, towering over Kara. "Did you receive a head injury yesterday?!" he scorned. "Draco, feed me before my stomach rebels!" 

********** 

Breakfast had been eaten in relative harmony, especially since Draco had left the two humans alone for a good portion of it. Licking his fingers, Bowen paused with his thumb still in his mouth to engage Kara's eyes; he noted they were an amber shade. He winked, withdrew his thumb then emitted a belch.   
"Your pardon, madam," he smiled at Kara.   
"Granted. Shall I take a look at your shoulder now?"   
Playfully, he answered: "How would you prefer me today?"   
"I think we can manage without troubling you to undress."   
"Oh, it's no trouble!" and his grin split his face almost from ear to ear.   
"It was yesterday," ignoring what she assumed to be a suggestive remark, "for both of us."   
"As long as you don't scald me today." His mouth twitched in suppression of a smile.   
"I won't; it's not too hot," and she laid the new poultice against her wrist as proof.   
"You plan to slap that on me when it's been on you already?"   
"I can slap something else on you if you insist."   
"Kara, you have no sense of humour," he complained. "Very well, I yield." So saying, he spread his hands by his sides and leaned against a rock. "Do your worst," he challenged.   
Standing between Bowen's knees, Kara had easier access to his shoulder. She eased aside his tunic and the shirt beneath it. "This may smart if it's stuck," she warned. Taking hold of the old dressing, she prised it carefully away from his skin, keeping her eyes firmly on her own hands.   
Bowen wasn't watching Kara's hands; his eyes were drawn to her hair and a dim memory began to gain in brilliance. Red hair; where had he seen such a vivid veil before? The memory wouldn't clear because a reawakened pain in his breast dashed it back into a dark recess of his mind. "Ow!" he yelped.   
"I did warn you," Kara said unsympathetically, discarding the cold lump of leaves.   
Her fingers were cool against the heat of his skin and other parts of Bowen began to match the inflammation around the wound. An involuntary groan wafted into Kara's ear and she looked directly at him; her mouth now but a fingerbreadth from his own. Bowen blinked; pulled back and hit his head on the rocks behind him.   
"You are accident prone," Kara mocked as the knight rubbed his scalp.   
"Just get on with it!" he snarled; embarrassed but not daring to let her know why. Her head dropped past his nose; again her fingers touched his skin and he sucked in his breath.   
"It's a little raw but doesn't appear infected," she announced. "I'll leave it and just put this fresh dressing on."   
As she turned away to pick it up, her knees brushed against Bowen's; he closed his eyes and murmured a silent prayer for some control. The wench was intoxicating; under normal circumstances, he'd have kissed her by now - except these were anything but normal circumstances. Where was Draco? He could act normally if Draco were around. Too late, she was back.   
"Won't you consider leading a fight against Einon?"   
"What? No!"   
"He's a tyrant." One hand grasped the clothing, the other prepared to slide the new dressing inside. "One who should have died a long time ago."   
"He almost did." It was said with bitterness. The dressing was in place, forcing a chill through Bowen's shoulder. He winced.   
"I should have clubbed him when I had the chance," she threw into the conversation as she turned away. Bowen's hand landed on her arm.   
"What do you mean?" All the suggestive remarks; all his humour had gone in that one question.   
"My village was on fire; I was choking in the smoke. I fell... Somehow - I still don't know how - I pushed him against a post. When he faced me there was confusion written on his face; a boy... he was dying... Then a knight rode in calling his name as if to his own son. Except the boy was a prince and his father was the dead king not five yards away from where I stood." She fell silent and didn't understand the expression on Bowen's face. "What's wrong?" she asked in her own confusion.   
"You're right, he should have died."   
"Then help me to make certain that he does," and she crouched down, her hands unconsciously coming to rest on his knees.   
"I can't. Rebellions cost too much in blood," genuine regret in his voice.   
Setting her jaw, Kara braced herself against Bowen's knees and pushed herself up to her full height. His eyes travelled with her. She left him sitting there and walked out of the campsite.   
"Where's she going?" Draco asked, emerging from his cave behind the waterfall.   
"I don't know," but there was no harshness in his voice. "Follow her, Draco; it's dangerous out there."   
"Mm, hm," the dragon mused. "Give her time, Bowen; it's not you she's angry with, you're just the only one she can vent it on." With a waddle and swish of his tail, Draco plodded elegantly out of camp.   
Absentmindedly, Bowen touched his right shoulder, caressing the cloth where Kara's hands had so briefly touched it. He lowered his eyes. The risk was too great; Einon was far too powerful; there were no allies to rally against the tyrant. There was just himself... 

********** 

A motley trio plodded along the forest road. Out in front walked Kara and Bowen; he led his horse whilst Draco kept a discreet distance behind, occasionally taking to the air when the trees closed in.   
"We could both ride a while," Bowen suggested. "You could sit behind me." He thought she still looked weary and they'd make better time on the horse; even with two on its back.   
"I can't ride," Kara excused, affording him an askance look.   
"You just hold on," he grinned, "I'll take care of the rest." It was a friendly enough offer but he sensed her doubt. "What can it hurt?" he coaxed. "I'm still a little battle-weary," hoping the pretext of his injury might persuade her to ride.   
"We can rest," she offered.   
"I thought you wanted to reach a village as soon as possible?"   
Kara thought about it. The sooner she could rouse the populace the sooner Einon would be dead. Riding pillion with Bowen was a small price to pay for that end. "Very well; we'll ride," she conceded.   
Bowen was greatly relieved - for his own sake as much as hers. He stopped; put one foot in a stirrup and swung up easily into his saddle. Leaning down, he offered Kara his left hand; taking his left foot out of the stirrup at the same time. Smiling encouragement, he beckoned.   
"Come on, take my hand; put your foot in the stirrup and hold onto the saddle to pull yourself up behind me."   
Kara thought that would take some doing. Would her skirts straddle the animal? She gave Bowen her left hand; his grip was firm - warm too; hitched up her skirts; placed her left foot in the empty stirrup and looked for a handhold behind Bowen. Finding a grip on the saddlebag, she pushed up; but in truth, Bowen did more to pull her off the ground. Somehow, she managed to swing her other leg over the horse's rump and find a seat behind the saddle. He let go of her hand.   
"Comfortable?" Bowen asked, glancing over his shoulder.   
"Wrap your arms around my waist," he advised.   
Presented with his back, Kara realised just how broad it was and how tall he was. Putting out both hands, she gripped onto the sides of his tunic; taking cloth into her hands rather than having to feel him in the embrace he'd suggested.   
"What's wrong? Can't you reach around me?" looking back at her again.   
"I'm alright," she responded coolly.   
"You won't be when we canter, let alone gallop," he warned. He smiled to himself; he'd win her confidence or pitch them into the nearest ditch trying. Kicking the horse's flanks, he spared a glance at the skies. Overhead wheeled Draco, quieter today than he'd been since they first met, but Bowen believed the old dragon was playing some sort of matchmaking game.   
"Hold on, Kara," the knight called as the horse picked up its pace. He urged it on again and the trot became a canter. He felt her fingers tugging at his tunic and waited for the alarmed grab at his waist. It came. Deliberately, Bowen doubled the speed; the horse's gait became a gallop. Small hands suddenly locked around the buckles at his waist and he felt her head bury itself into his shoulder blades.   
When they swerved between two trees, Kara's hands locked over themselves, squeezing into Bowen's midriff; whilst her body moulded itself into his back. The gentle swell of her breasts rubbed against his backbone; her knees bumped into his thighs and her hair was occasionally fanned against his face. Now this was more like it.   
"See!" he called. "Riding's easy!"   
"Do we have to go so fast?!" Then she squealed as she only just saw a low branch the split second after he'd ducked under it.   
Bowen slowed down to a canter again and the warmth of a sigh ruffled the hair in his neck. "Better?" he asked impudently, as they now bounced gently along the trail.   
"Much," she said through gritted teeth. "Do you know where the nearest village is?"   
"No." He looked for Draco; the dragon was nowhere to be seen. "Now where's he gone?" Bowen complained tersely.   
"Maybe he knows," Kara reasoned.   
"Or he's tired of our company." He threw a smile over his shoulder. Her nose was only an inch away; he blinked.   
"Tired of our arguments more like."   
Bowen's face softened. "Then let's call an end to it. I won't make anymore remarks if you promise not to try and recruit me as your war leader."   
"Alright," she agreed. "Will you also promise to stop cheating poor villagers?"   
He turned back to face the road. "You drive a hard bargain, girl; it's my living."   
"You are a knight."   
"I was. I serve no master now."   
"Why? Because you don't approve of Einon's regime?"   
The horse was pulled up sharply and Bowen turned bodily in the saddle. "Whether I approve or not is of little consequence. In case you haven't noticed, there's only one of me. I command no army as Brok and Felton do."   
"Then make one."   
He laughed scornfully. "Do you realise how long that takes?"   
No, she didn't. "It would be a start."   
"I thought you expected immediate victory," he mocked.   
"Were you born stubborn or did you train for that too?!" she said, decidedly vexed.   
"It came naturally to me," he smiled wickedly, "just as it seems to do to you."   
"So does breaking promises it would seem." She chewed on her bottom lip and fixed him with a withering stare.   
"That's just my nature, Kara," he said gently. "Part of who I am." He returned the stare. "The humour I mean."   
Kara lowered her eyes; she still had her arms about Bowen's waist, albeit in a looser hold than when they were riding, but now she let go as if he'd suddenly caught alight. "I'll walk for a while," she decided, sliding ungainly off the horse.   
Bowen dismounted fast; wrenching the shoulder and greeting her with a grimace of pain. "Damn it!" he cursed, as much from the searing stab at his flesh as her attitude. Throwing all caution to the winds, he spun her around by her sleeve so that she slammed against him. "What is it you want from me? Expect from me?" he demanded frostily.   
"Your pledge."   
"To what? A foolhardy venture?! No, Kara; and you would do well to forget it." Without waiting for her response, he remounted and urged the horse to a trot. 

********** 

Draco had circled the humans several times and witnessed Bowen's display of desertion. It saddened him that these two - linked as he was to Einon - could not agree between themselves. He supposed that the circumstances precluded any other reaction but hoped for a reconciliation. His own hopes also rested upon Bowen's broad shoulders. However much the knight might protest otherwise, Draco knew him to be the key to a resolution if not a revolution.   
He let them continue - Bowen a yard or two ahead of Kara - until the sun reached its zenith; then he found an appropriate clearing and glided down a safe distance from horse and rider.   
"May we rest, Bowen? The woods become denser ahead and my old wings can't keep up long flights."   
"Any villages up ahead?" Bowen asked, reining in his mount.   
"Afraid not." The dragon folded his wings neatly and shook his scales in dog fashion.   
"How far then?"   
"For you, a half day's ride."   
"Nightfall then," he calculated. "Do you think they'd take her?"   
"Perhaps. Does she want to go?"   
"Huh!" he snorted, watching as Kara finally caught up. "I think she's had more than enough of my company; haven't you, lass?" At least the form of address sounded more friendly.   
"I didn't say that; it's your tongue I object to. Silent, Sir Knight, you are bearable." She smiled challengingly at Bowen.   
He bristled but bit back the retort. Instead, he looked to Draco who acted as peacemaker.   
"Kara," the dragon said, crouching as low as his massive bulk allowed. "We will reach the village about sunset; do you expect to be given welcome there?"   
"Why not?"   
"Well, some folk are very distrusting of strangers." The remark was so obviously a veiled rebuke.   
Bowen flinched; he'd caught the meaning and he looked quickly for Kara's reaction. She appeared suitably chastised and he suddenly felt a great sympathy toward her. True, she'd been a nuisance so far, yet he couldn't help but admire her tenacity, however misplaced.   
"Look," he said, taking a step towards her, "if you want to continue with us then I have no objection. As Draco says, some villages don't welcome strangers; especially those that come by night. Perhaps if we wait until morning to approach them?" he suggested.   
His offer surprised her; it also felt genuine. She found herself nodding. Clearing her throat that had become suddenly dry, she said: "Your shoulder will need tending to in the morning." It was the best excuse she could muster.   
Bowen smiled warmly and accepted the olive branch for what it was. "I won't risk undoing all your good work with my clumsy hands." Her reaction to his words was to blush and lower her eyes leaving him at a loss as to know his next move. "Kara, I meant it as a compliment," allowing his hand to rest lightly on her shoulder. She didn't shrug him off.   
"I know." Daring to look into his eyes, she read genuine concern there. "Are we staying here then?" changing the subject entirely.   
"Briefly," Bowen answered.   
"Then if you'll excuse me." She fled then; running like a frightened animal for a clump of bushes close to the edge of the clearing.   
Bowen started after her until Draco called him back. Turning to face the dragon, he looked up into ancient features. "Why stop me?"   
"Have you thought that maybe she needs a moment alone? You were kind to her, Bowen," Draco emphasised.   
Stunned, Bowen realised that he'd won Kara's confidence at last. All he had to do now was hold onto it. 

********** 

At sunset, they sighted the village in a valley below them and decided to make camp on the hilltop. Bowen tethered his horse; unsaddled it and wished he'd been more careful. The wound kept reminding him it would mend it its time, not his.   
"Jesu!" he blasphemed.   
"Let me help," Kara offered, stepping up to where he stood, the heavy saddle hanging from his left hand. She took it from him and set it on the ground. "Anything else I can do?" spinning around to meet his nose.   
"Take a look at this shoulder perhaps; it's been gnawing at me all day."   
"You should rest it," pointing for him to sit down. He sat on a tree stump. "Is it sore?" she asked lightly, lifting the edge of his tunic to remove the dressing.   
"Yes." Her face was close to his - too close for his own comfort. He closed his eyes. When her fingers - cool and tender - gently probed the edges of the wound, he couldn't prevent his body from jerking; not out of pain but the pleasure of her touch.   
"Did that hurt?" and she looked directly into his eyes.   
"No," he gasped, "your fingers are cold."   
"I'm sorry," and she proceeded to blow on her hands to warm them up. The next time she touched him, he stayed still. "It's fine," she announced. "I can put a salve on now; just go easy," she ordered.   
"Yes, Madam," he agreed with a smile. "Anything you say!"   
She took the words as they were meant and even returned his smile. Hunting again in his saddlebag, she found the herbs with which to mash and make a paste to heal the wound. Since that was cold, she warned him before she spread it on with her fingers, not realising how sensuous her massaging was to him. Any moans she heard, she attributed to the shock to his system from the paste.   
Covering the whole thing with fresh leaves, Kara then pulled Bowen's shirt and tunic back into place. "Is that comfortable?" straightening and taking a pace backwards.   
"Yes... yes - thank you." He hated his foolishness; he was behaving like a lovesick, inexperienced youth. Then he remembered why he was and upbraided himself. If they parted company the following morning, he may never see her again. That thought alarmed him. What chance did she stand? 

********** 

After supper, Draco wandered away and stood staring at the sky. Seeing how longingly the dragon gazed, Kara chose to sit beside Bowen and ask why.   
"What does he see up there?"   
Bowen gave a small laugh. "Stars, Kara. Can you see shapes among the stars?"   
"Sometimes."   
"Follow Draco's line of sight," and he waited.   
"It... it looks like... " but she focused incredulous eyes upon the man beside her.   
"It is. That's how Draco got his name; I gave it to him." He chuckled. "He said - in a superior tone - that I'd never pronounce his real one."   
"Can you?"   
"I don't know, he never did tell it me."   
"So why does he gaze up at that group so adoringly? Do you think it's his heaven; somewhere to aspire to?"   
Bowen's jaw went slack. It had never occurred to him that a dragon might identify with a constellation simply because it resembled a dragon; yet he liked her thinking. "You may be right," he allowed. But then she looked away from him. "Don't turn your eyes from mine, Kara; please," catching her by the wrist.   
She brought her face back around to meet his and whispered: "Why won't you fight?"   
"I'm one man - I can't."   
"Then leave me here when you ride tomorrow, I'll go into the village alone and take my chances there." Her hands were limp in her lap yet she made no attempt to shake off his.   
"And if they owe allegiance to Einon?"   
"Everyone does - in theory."   
"What if they hand you over to him; hm?" His grip tightened and extended to taking her other hand in his. "When I mention him, I see hate in your eyes. I lived with hate for twelve years; but no more. You have to let go of yours, Kara," shaking her gently.   
"I can't; not yet." Her eyes closed in an attempt to stem the tears; she failed.   
"Then let your tears help." Carefully, he cradled her against his chest and she let him. Yet this intimacy was less than he'd hoped it to be. He felt a renewal of bitterness; anger and anguish not a surge of passion at the nearness of her.   
Whilst she shuddered against his body; weeping silent tears onto his tunic, Bowen mumbled his own tale into her hair.   
"Yesterday was our first meeting in twelve years and I don't know who was most surprised, him or me. His last memory of me was of my tears on his cheek... "   
Her head came up. "Why?"   
"It was at the quarry. He'd dared to say he was above the Code; I unhorsed him for his arrogance. He'd been almost a son to me; he threw my whole life in my face yet I didn't hate him. All I could do was kiss him goodbye..."   
Wiping away her own tears, Kara looked sympathetically at the knight. "He broke your heart," she concluded.   
"Yes, and I blamed the dragon for it."   
"Which dragon?" easing slightly out of Bowen's embrace. "I don't understand."   
"That's just it; I don't know - they all look the same in the dark." He noted her furrowing brow as she tried to make sense of his words; so he told her the story of the heart... 

********** 

"And now there's only Draco," Kara said sadly when Bowen ended his tale.   
"Yes. What if he's right, Kara? That Einon polluted the heart and not the other way round. It makes a mockery of all I've done."   
"Then remedy it," seeing a chink in the darkness.   
"I know what you're going to say and my answer remains the same."   
They now sat side by side on the hilltop; the village set out below them like a child's toy. A few curls of smoke rose upwards and tiny specks of light from fires flickered in the valley's gloom. Draco was himself gloomy. He'd taken no part in the retelling of Einon's story; the time was not yet ripe for the final truth, he couldn't be certain of Bowen's reaction and he'd grown to like the man.   
"Draco," Kara appealed to the dragon, "make him see sense."   
Raising one eyelid, the creature sighed heavily; his breath stirring Kara's hair. "Bowen is his own man, he must make his own decisions."   
"I thought you were wise enough to understand how important it is to kill Einon."   
"Oh, I know what his death would mean... " Draco said in a sombre tone, then closed his eye again.   
Kara expected more yet understood she wasn't about to get it. A mite disgruntled, she rose and picked up a blanket, chose a space beside the fire and lay down to sleep.   
Bowen watched her with sadness. She was a liability but he had no choice; he wouldn't leave her in that village nor return her to her own. Besides, he'd recalled a young girl with a wooden stave in a burning village whose hair matched the brilliance of the flames. She'd been defiant and courageous too and now he'd found her again. Fate, he guessed, had a hand in it somewhere and he was too curious to deny Fate the last roll of the dice. 

********** 

When Bowen awoke on that third morning, Kara was nowhere to be seen. Flinging aside his cloak - used as a blanket - he scrambled to his feet and looked around for Draco. The dragon was still snoozing on the perimeter of the small camp.   
"Draco, where's Kara?" Bowen spoke to the dragon's snout; the lowest portion of the creature's body accessible to him. A startled snort puffed from Draco's nostrils, smacking Bowen squarely in the face. He stepped back.   
One eye opened. "Have you lost her, Bowen?" Draco asked laconically.   
"Have I lost her?!" he exclaimed. "How come you didn't hear her leave?!"   
"She can't have gone far," rousing himself. The massive head rose several feet above Bowen, forcing the knight to tilt back his own head to maintain eye contact. "I'll go up and see if I can spot her."   
"You do that," Bowen grouched, choosing his own route from the campsite whilst taking careful note of indentations in the grass and looking for bruised foliage. Surely she wouldn't have gone to the village by herself? "Stupid wench!" he muttered.   
A few yards along the ridge a stream suddenly tumbled over the edge in a loud, foaming sheet of water. Back towards its source the stream flowed clearer and calmer the further Bowen walked its bank. Then he saw her. He almost tripped up in his haste to stop. Around a sharp bend; hidden beyond an overhanging tree, Kara was bathing. Chivalry demanded that he turn around and leave her; practicality dictated that he call her out for safety's sake.   
Steeling himself for the inevitable indignant reproach, Bowen stared at his feet and called her name as calmly as he could. He heard the startled splash; sensed her hurried exit then dared peer back at the water - she'd gone.   
"I wasn't spying!" he shouted. "I wondered where you'd gone! You shouldn't be out here alone! You ought to have told Draco - !"   
" - he's male too!" her disembodied voice shouted back from somewhere amongst the nearby bushes.   
"He's a dragon!!" Bowen pointed out. The bushes parted and she appeared. He was shocked. Her hair was still drenched and she only wore her shift; her dark gown hung over her arm - it too was drenched.   
"It needed washing," she explained, walking casually towards him.   
"Mm," was all he could muster. She was beautiful. The flame coloured hair now looked like rust; there was a new softness about her too that he couldn't fathom, yet he still expected a tirade of abuse from her; it didn't come. "I thought you'd left us," he admitted.   
"I wouldn't just wander off without a word." She strolled past him with a smile.   
"But you just did." He hurried after her.   
"I needed to bathe; it's been so hot; I still felt dirty."   
"You didn't look it," he complimented to her retreating back. Her head spun around showering him with water droplets. He blinked and batted them away.   
"How's the shoulder?" she enquired.   
Bowen flexed it. "Much better," he said brightly.   
"I wish I could say the same," and she resumed walking.   
He cringed; uncertainty crept back. How was he to deal with her? She'd made it plain that she disapproved of his 'dragonslaying venture' which ruled out her willingness to continue with him. The options were few; Einon had spies everywhere so the chances of her ending up back in his bed were very high. He didn't care for the odds.   
"Kara; not so fast." He loped after her and caught up. "I know you regard me as a cheat - "   
" - a fraud," she clarified, sparing a cursory glance.   
"As you wish. However, you would be safer travelling with us."   
"For how long?"   
"As long as you wish. Until we find somewhere more suitable."   
"Where?"   
He shrugged. "Out of Einon's kingdom."   
"Where?" she repeated. "How big is the kingdom?"   
"I couldn't ride it in a week - even at a gallop."   
"Alright," she surrendered.   
He felt better just hearing that one word. "May I suggest we draw up a few ground rules? Since we are to be travelling together," and he positively beamed at her, keeping his pace down to hers.   
"What sort of rules?"   
"That neither of us disappears without telling the other - for safety." He stopped. "Kara, you do understand that?"   
She halted and half turned. "Yes; it's a fair rule." Her agreement earned her yet one more of his warm smiles and she began to warm to him. "Is it alright if I call you: Bowen?" she asked shyly.   
"It is my name," he said on a chuckle.   
"Yes... but you're a knight... I'm only a peasant."   
"I am not your master," he said in all seriousness, "nor do I seek to be." He allowed her to weigh that a moment without taking his eyes off her. "You can trust me."   
"Yes, I believe I can."   
"Well, that wasn't so bad - was it?" grinning again.   
Kara thought it was the most genuine smile she'd ever seen; he appeared relieved to have exacted a truce from her. She was glad too; perhaps she could begin to piece her own shattered emotions back together now. 

********** 

Winning Kara's trust didn't stop her from continually chattering on about the ethics of what Bowen and Draco considered to be a clever scheme. In fact, her new-found acceptance of Bowen only made her more insistent. Come mid-day, he had a headache - not just from the sun beating down on his skull but her incessant reminder of Einon's cruelty and the need to stop him. By the time they found a suitable campsite for the night, Bowen was ready to scream. Instead, he decided to cool his temper in the river running close by.   
"See if you can bore the supper!" he said acidly, stalking into the sparse undergrowth. "Draco, don't you dare let her follow me!" he warned.   
"Why would I want to?" Kara countered.   
"Revenge?" Bowen suggested. "Curiosity?" he added with a wink.   
"Huh! Don't flatter yourself!" she snarled back.   
He deliberately bounced one hip against hers as he passed her and whispered: "Don't believe all you hear!" laughing as he left her to mull over what he might mean.   
Disgusted, Kara fumed silently, not able to think up a suitable response. Instead, she tackled Draco. "Did you hear what he said?"   
"Unfortunately - yes," the dragon mumbled.   
"Why: unfortunately?"   
"Because you don't know what he means."   
"Do you?"   
"No."   
"Then how am I supposed to - ?"   
" - ask him." Draco's eyes shone wickedly at Kara. "I think it was a challenge. He's daring you to follow him."   
"Why? He's gone to bathe."   
"Mm, hm." The eyes widened, taking huge eyebrows up towards the crown of horns.   
Kara blushed. "I can't; it's not right."   
"It's not a seduction, Kara; quite the opposite I'd say." More quietly, the dragon went on: "He wants you to accept him for what he is. You see a knight; a nobleman - a man," he emphasised. "Know your enemy," Draco recited. "Bowen is not your enemy."   
"How will seeing him... bathing, prove that to me?"   
"Think about it. He was embarrassed at having disturbed you this morning. As he said: revenge can be yours."   
"Spy on him!" she exclaimed.   
"He would teach you the only way he knows how - by example. He is not ashamed of, nor embarrassed by his own body and he wants you to understand that it is no threat to you."   
"I accepted his word, that's enough. Besides, I've seen a good portion of it already."   
"So be it. How about this supper then?" 

********** 

The river was deep so its waters were cool. Bowen swam out to the middle and looked about him. No, she wouldn't come, why should she? Winning her heart was going to be a far harder task. He could teach her so easily...   
Spitting out river water, he made for the bank and climbed out. The sun was still hot on his back for all the lateness of the day. Perhaps he ought to allow Kara time to equate his foolish words; they had been inflammatory.   
Standing, he grabbed at a piece of cloth he'd taken and began to dry the excess water from long, muscular legs. Edging the towel up his body, Bowen cursed his own tongue; she'd never accept this - patting at his own version of that which had so sorely wounded her - not in a million years.   
He dressed hurriedly in breeches, shirt, hose and shoes; buckled his belt and - carrying his tunic over one arm - strode back to camp. The aroma of cooking wafted on the evening breeze, reminding him just how hungry he was. His hair was already partially dry by the time he saw - as well as smelled - his supper.   
Draco stirred from a doze as Bowen entered the camp. He saw the knight drop his tunic casually beside his saddle and lay out a damp towel to dry. "Hungry, Bowen?" the dragon asked.   
"Where is she?" Bowen asked; concerned eyes scanning the area.   
"She'll be here in a minute."   
Then Bowen saw her; entering the clearing from the opposite side to where he now stood. He caught her eye. "Smells good," he complimented.   
"Draco caught it, I cooked it." She sat beside the fire and leaned to the spit over it.   
"It's big," he commented, sitting on a fallen tree trunk.   
"Deer," she confirmed. "Draco's hungry too," and she proceeded to carve meat from the kill. "He has a good strategy," handing Bowen a huge lump on the end of her dagger.   
Here it comes, thought Bowen, battle plans now! He wasn't far wrong. She began to ask him questions about how men were best deployed; the best fighting ground and whether horsemen were better than foot soldiers.   
"None of that matters," he told her, "if your troops can't handle the weapons you put into their hands." He discarded a bone and wiped his fingers on the grass.   
"Then they'd need a good teacher," knowing it was guaranteed a response.   
"Several." Bowen rose to get himself a drink.   
"Do you believe in that Code you spoke of?" Kara wanted to know.   
Shocked, Bowen spun to face this young woman of courage. "I used to," he said honestly.   
"What does it say?"   
Draco though, began to recite: "A knight is sworn to valour; his heart knows only virtue; his blade defends the helpless; his might - "   
"-that's enough!" Bowen bawled. "Einon was right; it's a dead world belief!"   
"Then revive it," Kara pleaded.   
Sadly, he looked at her. "And see more murders? Villages burnt - women raped... " letting his eyes burn into hers.   
"There must be others like you," she insisted, "you can't be the last."   
"The last dragon is here because of me; I am the last dragonslayer. Make that my epitaph, not that I was hung as a traitor." He'd had enough of the pleading; the insipid - childish even - talk of rebellion as if it were no more than a ride through a forest. Bowen took himself back to the river, sat on its bank and watched the sunset.   
There was only one problem in that; the sun glowed firebrand red in the sky and thoughts of Kara only made his heart sink lower as the sun itself slid to the horizon. He was trapped. 

********** 

He watched the stars illuminate the heavens, only the gentle rustle in the undergrowth breaking his concentration.   
"What do you see tonight, Bowen?" the rich voice asked.   
Without turning, Bowen answered: "Trouble."   
"For you?"   
The voice was closer now and Bowen raised his head to look over his shoulder. "For both of us."   
"Problems - perhaps." He crouched as close to Bowen as he could.   
"Do you think she's right?"   
"Yes; but you know that anyway else why would you be out here?"   
"I can't do what she asks, Draco," he said in anguish.   
"You need to be inspired, Bowen; purpose to feed your passion," and the old dragon peered purposefully at the knight.   
"It's enough to just live, Draco." Rising from his hard seat of earth, Bowen stretched his muscles and fingered his shoulder.   
"She'd think more of you if you helped her," Draco remarked knowingly.   
"Helped her to die? No, my friend, it's a fool's errand," and he walked away leaving Draco pondering alone. 

********** 

But Kara didn't give up; she was still at it on the road the following morning. As Draco wheeled elegantly above them, she once again tried to shame Bowen into helping her.   
"Where are we going?" she began as they walked along the road together.   
"Draco says there's a village ahead; set amongst the swamp."   
"Swamp? You'd do better to earn their gratitude than try to extort money from them," she reproached him.   
"And you think these people would make good recruits?" Bowen scoffed. "They are swineherds; far more used to chasing pigs than men," he said testily.   
"Einon's no better than a pig!" Kara retorted.   
Bowen pulled up sharp. "That's an insult to a pig!" he quipped but she failed to see the humour in it. Looking overhead, he called up to Draco: "How much further?!" absent-mindedly scratching at his shoulder as he spoke.   
"Just beyond the bridge!" the dragon called down just before he caught another thermal and floated along on it.   
Irately, Bowen clawed at his shoulder; it itched and tingled and didn't improve his temper. It had been four days since he'd met Kara; four days of ill humour, constant criticism and the urge to shake, slap or swipe her. Mixed in with all the negative thoughts were a couple of positive emotions. She moved him; he admired her tenacity and he yearned to feel some of that red hair between his fingers. Conscious of her eyes upon him, Bowen banished any further, more erotic thoughts about Kara. Suddenly ashamed, he looked away from her and took his temper out on the shoulder instead. The sound of her voice startled him though and he reacted with a jerk.   
"Don't do that," she commanded, "let me see."   
He obligingly halted and anticipated the touch of her fingers against his skin. When one hand lifted the edge of his tunic and her other thrust inside, he began to wish he were somewhere else. He cast his eyes heavenwards; her words brought him down to earth.   
"It's knitted well; you don't need the dressing anymore," and she carelessly discarded it.   
"You have a healer's touch, Kara," he praised; then changed tack at her blank expression. "In a few days it'll be just another scar."   
Out came the almost-daily sarcasm. "And what's one more scar? To a knight, I mean."   
Bowen steeled himself for her next insult or rebuke.   
"I once knew a knight. He stood all alone against an evil king and even saved a rebel leader from blinding; he must have had many scars."   
Won't work, thought Bowen, you can't shame me. "That knight died of his wounds long ago," he allegorised.   
"Pity; men like him are sadly missed in this world," she probed again.   
"That's the way the wretched world is, girl," he said sharply.   
But Kara refused to be beaten. She took a softer tack. "Doesn't have to be. Men like you could lead others; you could give them courage and hope," she flattered.   
Now that did touch him. "Hope?" he queried. "Even if you could raise your army, do you think they'd stand a chance against seasoned troops? The last time they tried it was a massacre; I remember; I was there!" hoping to finally hit home. He turned to walk on.   
"So was I," and she successfully halted him again. "That rebel was my father."   
Bowen gazed at her. Now he began to understand it all. He didn't answer.   
"Let others stand with you and you'll see, this time the end will be different." Something in Bowen's eyes embarrassed her; she lowered hers. "What are you looking at?"   
"Myself," he said fondly, "once upon a time." But he refused to budge and carried on walking again. Totally ignoring her, he called out: "I'll see you in the village, Draco!" and left her standing in the middle of the causeway. 

PART 2 

Kara had won; she had her warrior lord and he was training peasants how to wield more than pitchforks - it was impressive. Yet it hadn't come easy; in fact it had been a miracle and she wondered just how it had come about. The day that Bowen had left her standing beside the bridge, Kara had hated him. But her anger had urged her on and she'd followed him into the swamp village.   
Then had come the fiasco over Draco's 'death' and the appearance of the priest. Had he somehow influenced Bowen's change of heart? At the time - upon that eerie tor - it hadn't seemed likely. The atmosphere of the place - its stone columns; grave markers and the stone circle at their feet - had been as something from a bard's tale; yet even all that had apparently unmoved Bowen. He'd regarded his service and search for noble ideals as a naive gesture and vowed never to be so again. So what had happened?   
She and Brother Gilbert had resigned themselves to an enlisting campaign with Draco as an incentive; then, to see Bowen ride down the hillside into her own village, garbed as a true knight - having shot off a warning arrow - had renewed her faith in him. It had also stirred something else within her; a warmth that she found it hard to name. Was she forming some attachment to this bluff knight? This weary warrior several years her senior, and she estimated a decade at least from the look of him.   
Now, during the past few weeks, he had organised a real training ground on the hills overlooking the village. Bows were made; arrows cut and flatted; weapons forged and staffs hacked out of young trees. Kara too had joined the men in learning how to defend herself and attack when necessary. Garbed as a boy, she held a lightweight axe in her hands and smiled at the memory of Bowen's personal tuition.   
It had all seemed so simple; just swipe at your target. Hitting home wasn't the problem; retrieving the weapon was and often both manoeuvres threw her off balance. He'd come up behind her - and she'd not even been aware of him watching her - and his voice sent a shiver down her spine.   
"Easy... " he'd said softly.   
Surprised, she'd turned and he approached her so calmly; so matter of factly. One hand clamped onto her shoulder from behind; his foot pushed hers apart.   
"Here... widen your stance," he advised, his right hand covering hers and the axe handle so easily. "Up - down - up - down," as he raised her arm to strike at the target. "One - fluid - stroke."   
Yes, it had been easy; his body locked to her back; his hands to support her and his weight to guide the momentum. But it had been more than that and she sensed an awkwardness once the movement had been completed. She'd turned her head; her hair brushing against his cheek, only to see uncertainty on his face. Did he read it on hers too? Certainly, he broke from her with a downcast expression and was set to walk away. She'd stopped him.   
"That could cleave a man's skull," she'd commented shakily.   
He'd smiled; taken the axe and hurled it expertly into a cart of vegetables. "Like a pudding!" with a wide grin and an easier glance. But then he'd met her eyes again and it was as if she'd known him forever; known that he cared for her; known that she loved him...   
Now there was no more he could teach any of them. Even the priest had shocked everyone with his inborn talent as an archer. However, shooting at static, wooden targets was different to felling a man; would the monk be able to overcome his vows on that point?   
This then was the last day. It had been decided to attack Einon's castle the following morning at first light. The attack would be in the form of a decoy; Bowen wanted to face Einon on their terms - in the forest where ambush and surprise would be easier. The strategy had been worked out; each man had one group commander from whom to take orders and those commanders answered to Bowen. But there was one surprise that Kara had been elected to spring. 

********** 

Hewe had decided that Bowen might better appreciate the sentiments if Kara were sent. It was barely dawn and she stood nervously outside a roughly erected tent; inside, Bowen still slept, as he'd done every night since coming to the village. Kara's task was to wake him; her problem was: how to do it. Quietly; cautiously or bold and brash? She opted for caution since she'd learned by her time with him that he wasn't the most congenial person first thing of a morning.   
Lifting the flap, she entered his tent; it was fairly gloomy inside but she saw him easily not six feet from her. He was sprawled on his back; naked to the waist - at least, the blanket came up to his waist - and glistening with sweat. For a moment she didn't know what to do; a paradox of emotions vied for precedence. On one hand, she wanted to kiss him yet that small voice of conscience warned her not to.   
Caution then; don't startle him. Then she spied the heap of clothing on the earth beside his bed of saddle and blankets and she flushed in the realisation that he was naked beneath his one modest covering.   
"Bowen," she called out quietly, "you must wake."   
A groan greeted the request and he rolled onto his left side to face her, but his eyes remained closed.   
Taking those necessary paces forward, she crouched down and poked one finger at his shoulder; the red line of the sword thrust twitching as she did so. "Bowen," she said more urgently, "there's something you must see."   
He jerked awake; startled eyes flew open; his hands fastened onto the blanket and he frowned at her.   
"Here... " she offered, grasping his breeches and holding them out to him. He snatched them; scowled and sat up. She back-pedalled. "Um... I'll get you something to eat," she said, hurriedly averting her eyes. She heard a mutter but no direct words.   
Bowen had hardly slept. Those fitful few moments of slumber had been clogged by decidedly disturbing dreams, one of which involved an angel in white with a red halo about her head. Now that vision was a reality and it rendered him speechless. He watched her wandering about the tiny tent looking for morsels of food. She'd not find anything to stave the hunger he now felt.   
Sitting there; the blanket draped strategically across his lower body, Bowen realised the image he presented to Kara. Why didn't she leave and let him dress? Was she so unsure as to how he would react either way? Gripping the blanket, making sure it remained across his lap, he swung his legs to the floor, took the breeches and shoved his feet into them. It wasn't easy to maintain modesty and he growled his irritation at this enforced act of propriety, but somehow he managed it; the breeches were in place.   
She found stale bread and wine in one corner of the tent, brought them to him and offered them. "Breakfast," she said cheerily. Her eyes strayed to the crumpled blanket in his lap and travelled downwards. She relaxed when she glimpsed cloth and bare feet.   
He just sat there gazing up at her. What now? The bread splintered in her fingers, showering him and he turned up his nose at the prospect.   
"Not hungry then?"   
No answer.   
"I know," and she turned away again.   
Curious, Bowen's eyes swivelled in their sockets; but he was too late. A cold, wet cloth on his bare back sent him shooting to his feet and forced a yelp from his mouth. "Jesu!" he complained, snatching the cloth from her.   
"Too cold?" she queried sweetly.   
"Too fast!" he scowled. "Why are you here? What's the rush? It's barely dawn. The battle's tomorrow."   
"I'm on a mission," and she held out her hand. "Come on."   
"Where?" he said suspiciously.   
"Outside."   
"It's cold outside," he answered flatly.   
"You're hardy enough," and she laced her fingers into his.   
That touch sent another chill down his spine but he let her lead him; in truth, at that moment, he'd have followed her to hell. 

********** 

It seemed to Bowen that he was the last to leave his bed that morning. No sooner had he stepped outside the tent than a rousing cheer rent the air. He squeezed Kara's fingers out of embarrassed surprise.   
"What's all this?" he asked her, attempting a smile.   
"They have something for you." She edged towards a shrouded shape on a wooden pole. Taking Bowen with her and holding one corner of the cover, she tugged at it. His over-awed surprise as it dropped, pleased her.   
He was dumbstruck. There, supported on a cross-pole, was a circular shield. Hammered onto its blue zinc background was a gilded head -the head of a dragon. Without uttering a word, Bowen turned tail and bolted back into his tent.   
Safe inside once more, he clenched his fists to calm his nerves. He shook from head to toe and had deep misgivings about the wisdom of going into battle. He heard Kara come into the tent but kept his back to her and reached down for his shirt. Pulling it over his head, he heard her quiet words.   
"They made it for their general."   
"I'm no general; I'm a knight." Pushing his arms into the long sleeves, he rammed the shirt into the waist of his breeches and bent to pick up the hose. She came to his side and he was compelled to look at her.   
"They believe in you; that you can lead them to victory." Her own eyes mirrored that confidence.   
"And if I fail?" daring to give voice to his own doubt. He sat down on the bed.   
"At least you will have tried." She chose to sit beside him.   
"But what will happen to you if I die?" putting his feet into the hose and pulling them on.   
"Einon will never touch me again!" she vowed vehemently. "I'll kill myself first."   
"Such spirit," he said with pride. "You helped to restore my own faith - renew my heart."   
"What did happen at the tor?"   
He reached for her arms. "I was reminded of what I once was." Then he told her of the vision. 

********** 

Kara sat beside Bowen on his bed of blankets listening to every emotional word that he spoke of that night. When he'd done, she realised that he had her hands in his own and didn't mind that touch. His thumbs caressed the backs of her hands in a reassuring gesture, nothing erotic at all.   
"You really heard King Arthur?"   
"Yes," he whispered. "It was like being reborn."   
She took courage in that. "Then we will win tomorrow."   
Bowen gave a short laugh. "Such confidence deserves reward!"   
"You are my confidence," Kara said shyly and stood up to look down at him.   
He rose to face her; sincerely, he told her: "As you are mine." An uneasy silence drifted between them. Neither knew how to continue; what to do; what to say. Kara eased the tension.   
"Now you are a true knight again. You have a shield of honour to protect you; you'll be every inch a gallant knight."   
"Hardly; there'll be one thing missing." It was spoken with purpose.   
"What?"   
"My lady's favour."   
"What's that?"   
"A ribbon or veil that he wears on his arm in her honour." Bowen's eyes didn't leave Kara's.   
Hers screwed up; trying to make sense of what he said. "Who... who is your lady?" she hardly dared ask. The answer shook her lithe frame to her toes.   
"I'm looking at her." His eyes had softened and he hoped to convey how much she meant to him in that look.   
"Me?!" and she shook her head in denial. "I am no lady!"   
"You are the woman I love." His voice fractured with the confession.   
"I'm a peasant."   
"So?" he said with the hint of a smile and twitch of his shoulder.   
"I can give you nothing." She turned away but was pulled back.   
Seeing the anguish in her eyes cut Bowen to the quick. "You have everything to give me," he told her sincerely.   
"No!" and she broke free. Nervous fingers fidgeted with her cord belt. "The one thing a maiden has to give is her virtue - mine was stolen."   
"It doesn't matter," he said softly, seizing hold of her shoulders.   
"It does to me!" she shouted. "How can you love a... a... whore?!"   
"What?!" Bowen said in disbelief. "I know that to be a lie! Rape does not make you a whore," he said more gently.   
"It's all I can hope for now."   
"No! I love you, Kara," and he shook her to knock the words into her brain.   
"How can you?" biting her lip to stem her tears.   
"How can I not?"   
"Men set such store by virtue. Yours has been restored; mine never can be, I'll carry that shame to my grave."   
"The shame is not yours and can be remedied."   
"How?"   
Bowen smiled. "Do you trust me?"   
"In what way?"   
His eyebrows shot up. "In every way!"   
"Yes."   
"Then let me purge this shame you speak of; first in Einon's blood and then - in my arms."   
"I cannot."   
"Yes you can," he breathed, leaning closer. Then he released her and picked up his sword. He stilled the look of fear that crossed her face with a finger against her lips. He knelt before her; kissed the sword's hilt and said: "I would kneel in church with you." Raising his head, he waited patiently for her reply.   
Shaking her head in confusion, Kara looked down at Bowen. "Please, you must not kneel to me."   
"Then answer me. Heal my heart, Kara as surely as you healed this," touching his breast. He laid the sword aside but continued to gaze up at the woman before him.   
Latching onto the sleeve of his tunic, she tugged to get him to rise. "You don't know what you ask."   
"Yes I do." In one movement he was on his feet and his mouth had fastened onto hers. Bowen was as gentle in that kiss as he'd been with his words. At first, she struggled but soon relaxed against his chest. He enfolded her in an embrace that was both passionate and compassionate. He wanted this to be her healing; the first step to exorcising Einon's evil from her mind and body.   
Kara felt dizzy. Breaking from Bowen, she laid her hands against his chest, feeling his heart beneath the tunic. "Does it always beat so fast?" she asked.   
"Around you of late - yes."   
She smiled. "You would make me your... lady?"   
"Yes."   
"Then," and she unknotted a band of leather from around her neck, "you'd best carry this." Laying it across her palms, she held it towards him. "It's all I have."   
Pursing his lips in pride and humility, Bowen extended his left arm. "Will you tie it for me?" She wrapped it around his bicep and tied it back into place; he quivered beneath her fingers and laced his other hand into her hair, letting his fingers tenderly probe her scalp.   
"It was my father's," she explained. "I took it from him the day that Einon murdered him."   
"Then I will honour his memory as well as your virtue," Bowen promised, bending to brush his lips against her cheek.   
"Just kill Einon for me; I ask no more of you than that."   
"You have my word; now will you make me a promise?" he asked kindly.   
"I cannot answer you yet," she said hesitantly.   
Bowen shook his head. "No; this is different. Will you stay with me tonight?"   
"What?!" her eyes popping out of her head and her feet racing backwards.   
"Kara," he pleaded, his hands gesturing in supplication. "I mean: to keep vigil - to pray with me." He edged forward. She'd run out of anywhere to go except back outside. "It's customary for a knight to spend the hours of darkness before a battle, on his knees in prayer. I'm not sure I can do it alone."   
Kara looked for, and found, sincerity in Bowen's eyes. "In prayer?" she needed confirmed.   
"Yes."   
"Here?" gesturing to his tent.   
"Yes," he repeated.   
"What about Brother Gilbert, can't he guide you through this?"   
Bowen's eyes closed. "Yes, he could." Opening his eyes, he pleaded one more time. "I would rather share the vigil with you."   
She stared for several seconds, contemplating what it meant. A night alone with Bowen. She'd spent several nights with him already; but they had been out in the open where Draco could see. A night in a tent. That tent was in the midst of a training ground where dozens of people slept each night within earshot of it. Would agreement seem like a signal for him to make free with her? No, that didn't seem likely, he'd just made her a proposal - or was that a sweetener? A ploy?   
"If I agree - if," she stressed, "then it does not mean anything other than that I replace the priest."   
"Of course; did you think otherwise?"   
Yes, she did but wasn't about to say so. "I hold you to your code of honour."   
Again, Bowen knelt; he bowed his head. "By my life, I swear."   
"Then I will do as you ask."   
He raised his head and smiled gratefully. Gaining his feet again, Bowen then suggested breakfast. "Proper food though, none of this stale bread and soured wine."   
"And tomorrow we do battle."   
He led her from the tent to seek food, content in that small gesture of acceptance - for now. 

********** 

Bowen had been walking with Draco. The dragon had reminded him that the greatest thing left was hope and the camp was alive with it. Now, the knight made his way slowly back to the overcrowded pasture where his tent stood smack in the centre of hastily erected shelters. He wondered whether Kara would come and keep vigil with him, he hoped that she would, it would be easier to remain strong if she were there.   
A hushed expectancy floated through the camp as Bowen passed through it. Soft murmurs greeted him; prayers, blessings, wishes for a good night's sleep; but sleep was the last thing on his mind, he was too agitated for that. What he'd told Kara wasn't essentially true; only the night before being sworn to allegiance was a youth expected to keep such a vigil. Many knights did wander sleepless before a battle; some drank to ward off the fears, others whored their way to dawn. Of the three, only one option lay open to Bowen...   
He reached his tent, raised the flap and ducked inside; he couldn't see a thing. Somewhere amongst his belongings was a tallow candle. Fumbling his way to the saddlebags, he managed to lay his hands on them and open up one. Feeling inside, he withdrew the candle and the means to light it. As the flint sparked, Bowen jumped - Kara sat on his makeshift bed.   
"I... I didn't realise... why didn't you light this?" he said reprovingly to mask his surprise.   
"I didn't know you had any form of light."   
"They have oil lamps out there," pointing at random in the direction of camp.   
"You seem subdued," Kara remarked, standing as she spoke. "Are you afraid?"   
"Only a fool isn't," he said coldly. The candle ignited and he set it down safely.   
"And you are no fool," she said.   
Bowen gazed at Kara, the new light now casting a yellow glow on her face. "I hope not."   
"I know you are not," she complimented.   
"I'm fool enough to risk waiting for your answer." He let his eyes bore into hers.   
"When we've won, I'll give it then."   
"And if I'm dead then?"   
"You won't be."   
"Hah! Not even you can guarantee that, lass!"   
"If you live, I live and I intend to do that. I'll guard your back, Bowen."   
The sound of his name on her lips was strange yet pleasing. "Then I have no need to worry." He unbuckled his sword belt and set it aside; removed the girdle over his leather armour then took that off too.   
"Just a minute," Kara's voice said shakily. "I thought you were going to pray?"   
He eyed her purposefully. "I am; but I intend to be comfortable. This is fine for fighting in but wasn't made for comfort. Don't worry," he said with a smile, "nothing else is coming off! Unless... " and he grinned devilishly at her so that she blushed.   
Waving her finger, she warned: "You so much as breathe seductively at me and I'll geld you!" her hand straying to the iron hilt at her waist.   
"Please!" he grimaced; his hands automatically shielding his manhood from her dagger. "Don't do anything we may both regret!"   
"You seem a little over confident on that score."   
"I live in hope, Kara," but there was no mischievous smile to accompany the comment.   
"Hope is all we have for now," she answered wistfully, "so I'll not dash yours."   
"Thank you," he said softly. "Now, how are we to pass this night?" he said brightly.   
"In prayer, you said."   
"Can we talk too? Tell me of your childhood," and he steered her to the bed.   
"There's nothing to tell."   
"There must be. Children are the same no matter where they are born." He sat down, waiting for her to join him.   
"I'm the only surviving child of my parents," she informed him. "I remember a tiny child being born - too soon I later learned - when I was about five years old; but no more. I think there were at least two before me - all boys," she added sadly. "Strange, don't you think? Three boys and I'm the one about to fight." She sat beside him.   
"The world is strange, Kara. Why does tyranny thrive? Why are men so vicious?"   
"Not all men," she allowed, daring to look into his eyes.   
"I can be," he rasped.   
Kara shook her head in denial. "I'm safe with you; as I am with Hewe or any man from my village; yet you pose the greatest... threat. No, not threat; that's too strong. You are the one who could... persuade me to sin."   
"Have I tried?"   
"No."   
"Then it seems you are learning to think things through; to bury the past."   
"Perhaps." 

********** 

They'd spoken at length about many things; her childhood and how things had seemed so simple; his naivety too. By the time the camp had fallen silent and only fires still burned, Bowen had taken to prayer. When he rose from his knees it was to see that Kara had fallen asleep on his bed, twisted at an ungainly angle from which she was like to wake with a stiff neck.   
Sliding back down onto numbed knees, Bowen gently turned her and laid her out properly, covering her with his own blanket. Rising over her, he planted one kiss on her cheek then stood and went to pour himself a cup of wine.   
"I needed you to stay awake," he said softly in her direction. "I also needed you to answer my proposal." He squatted down beside her sleeping form, the wine cup clasped between his parted knees and elbows resting on his thighs. "I love you," he whispered before standing to refill the cup.   
Come dawn, Bowen too had dozed off; sitting on his haunches, head bowed on crossed arms in turn resting on his knees. Something fluttered against his hair dragging him reluctantly from a beautiful dream. His head flew up and he found himself face to face with Kara.   
"I'm sorry," she apologised, "I didn't mean to fall asleep."   
"Mm... no... nor did I," and he yawned. Straightening his back, Bowen eased out the knots in it then stretched his arms up.   
"It's about dawn," Kara announced.   
"Mm; did you sleep well?" engaging her eyes at last.   
"Thank you - yes." Yes, she'd slept very well; there had been the scent of him on the blanket that covered her and the saddle beneath her head, enough to bring him into her dreams - dreams that had left a warm glow within her. It would be so easy to give him the answer he desired, yet there was so much for her to consider - how could she be a wife to any man?   
Bowen scrambled to his feet. "Breakfast?" he queried, offering Kara his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. The look in her eyes gave him renewed hope, but there was a battle to fight. So instead of pursuing the point of the proposal, Bowen led Kara to breakfast then went out to lead his ramshackle army.   
The morning was cold, misty and eerie. As he rode out, Bowen could not know that it was an historic day that dawned; a day that would be consigned to legend. For him, it was a time to rectify an error of judgement; all he hoped for was a chance to achieve it.   



End file.
